


novelty item(s)

by blackice



Series: Rooster Teeth/Funhaus - Rare pairs [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Crack Relationships, Fluff and Crack, Inspired by DudeSoup #1, M/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:25:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4692014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackice/pseuds/blackice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joel shrugs, smiles faintly like he doesn't know what he's supposed to do while alone with a senior employee. "Everyone thought blue was too hipster," he says drolly. His eyes skate over Jon, and Jon gets the impression that Joel Rubin could have been trying to mentally undress him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	novelty item(s)

**Author's Note:**

> While engaging in research, I came to the conclusion that both Joel and Jon have Significant Others. (Congratulations!) So here's the AU where both are single and willing.

novelty item(s)

"There is a level of integration," says Burnie earnestly, "that I do not want happening, Jon." A half-full glass of whiskey is cradled in his bear-like hands, and the tips of his ears and cheeks are tinted red. The whiskey is from the bottle Burnie had helped open - a reward for himself for bothering to help the employee, he argued.

Really, Jon just doesn't really bother himself about anything in this company anymore when it becomes very clear that Burnie and co. don't really look at the standard business models. It still puzzles him at times at how they can get away with several things, though. The constant mockery and taunts that erupt from the Achievement Hunter office are several.

" _Jon._ " Burnie's tone grows insistent. "I don't want integration-integration. I want nice integration. Like friend-gration. Not friend-with-benefigration."

"You've made this very, very clear," Jon responds, staring at his computer monitor and waiting for Burnie to leave his office and the unyielding metal chair he sits on. "What's the problem?"

Burnie makes a magnificent gesture, something that's encompassing the entirety of everything and all that philosophical crap. "Funhaus!" His arms waver at holding the magnanimous gesture, and the twang of his affected tone shakes. "They're - oh, God, I don't think anyone's thought of it!"

Patiently, Jon waits for Burnie to finish. On his screen, his pointer clicks on Matt Hullum's email link, his fingers start a rapid typing, and somewhere along the way a formal plea for help disintegrates into 'oh my god Burnie’s talking to me about things I don't want to be talked to about please help'.

-

Burnie takes Jon onto the airplane trip to the new Funhaus office - it's small, cozy, a little claustrophobic. California is just as he remembers - sunny and stormy and all-around filled with attractive people of various types. The Funhaus team look kind of miserable around the long table, and Burnie automatically takes on the role of benevolent leader and kicks them into gear.

Jon is left to his own devices in setting up their logo and other devices - he's learned tech-savvy tricks from the Adams out of an unrelenting desire to not end up as Joel Heyman in the throes of computer-death. He's sat at the one of the two desks in the adjoining blue room to the red room, and he feels like the desk is lived-in already. 

The chair's been set at a comfortable position so all Jon really does for a few seconds at first is luxuriate in this little carved-out space. Then he gets to work and plugs in, borrowing the discarded headphones and opening up servers and websites.

A faint tap at the shoulder hours later has him jerk far to the side, and Jon yanks the headphones down to his neck, craning his neck to see a pair of bemused dark eyes stare back at him. 

"We're done with the stuff," says Joel Rubin mildly. "Everyone's gone out to lunch - are you... ?" He gestures to the monitor.

"Uh, yes. Sorry. Right. Done. I'll just - uh, right." Jon does his best to replace everything as he found it, and he wishes for that kind of confidence that being the On the Spot host gives him. "So - your desk?"

Joel shrugs, smiles faintly like he doesn't know what he's supposed to do while alone with a senior employee. "Everyone thought blue was too hipster," he says drolly. His eyes skate over Jon, and Jon gets the impression that Joel Rubin could have been trying to mentally undress him.

Which would counter the forbidden integration-integration rule. 

He reddens either way, and he swivels the chair to properly face Joel. "Did you volunteer to stay behind? I'm touched, really. My heart pounds at your romantic overtures."

"I was going to try and dump you from my chair," says Joel. "And probably proposition you as a joke. Or just throw you to the ground."

Jon blinks. "Do you even lift?"

-

He and Joel get along well enough, thinks Jon, as much as two bitchy, starving co-employees from two branches can. He's already texted Burnie to buy two extra sandwiches, one for him and one for the whining soul next to him, and Burnie's texted an entire wall of text lecturing about integration-integration. 

"He thinks I'm going to screw you," complains Jon, slumped sideways in what's probably Kovic's chair. There is the big orange and black minimalist portrait of Funhaus!Adam on the monitor, and for several absentminded seconds, he recalls the exact moment he had to photoshop the silly face into something chic and cool. He waves his arm, shaking the phone and the memory from his head. "Like, really. There's nothing to screw anyone with in this office."

Joel agrees somberly, looking slightly like he was wandering the fields of daydreams. 

Jon doesn't blame him; Jon’s rarely good company, even on good days. "Speaking of screwing, how much do you know about fanfiction?"

Straight eyebrows, dark like his curly hair and his eyes, rise. "Rooster Teeth has a lot of fans," he deflects. "Who like the Achievement Hunter team. Who are nothing like Funhaus. Really, nothing identical at all."

Jon plows on regardless. "There's so much fanfiction," he mourns. "Ever since they started making team names and team feelings and team Fake AH crew, there's been  _so much fanfiction_. It's the dirty kind too."

"My favorite," says Joel.

"But - but can you believe what they try to pass off as hot and modern?"

"What do they pass off as hot and modern, Jon." Joel is very patient with Jon, and in this instance it's kind of worrying how nice it to just babble on about everything except business to a man he’s known for all of several hours. 

"Screwing! Hips! Orgies! Kinks!"

With a great deal of enviable tolerance, Joel manages a response: "Well, those aren't that bad, right?" Jon rises halfway from Kovic's chair, squints at Joel, who is perched almost lazily in Sonntag's chair. The man shrugs, curly dark hair bouncing at the expressive movement. "I like three of four."

"What's wrong with four?"

Joel gently pats Jon's knees. "You don't talk about four in public, Jon. Gosh, Austin has done a number on your Californian sensibilities."

Jon's squint gets more pointed, more curious. He's always been told his curiosity would get him into trouble - it has - but this was a subject begging to be plundered and looted. "If you have any dirty secrets," he says slowly, rolls the syllables on his tongue like the warm glide of the whiskey from a month ago - Joel flushes, the tips of his ears getting pink. Jon grins. "I swear that I'm a noble soul. Anything told here is in confidence."

"There's a camera everywhere," parries Joel.

Jon sits up straight and propels himself to Sonntag’s chair, coming face to face with Joel Rubin (and knees to knees _ow_ ).

He pays close attention to everything and nothing - some girl had told him that, half in a joking manner and half in a goddammit-Jon manner. With enough motivation, Jon could spend half a day or half a minute just categorizing everything. With enough motivation, he could be enticed into searing a single image and its imperfections into his brain.

Jon looks, analyzes, and studies everything about Joel Rubin. Dressed in a button-shirt, made of sharp lines and edges, but wearing comfortable denim jeans. His hair's artfully styled and curly yet Jon wants to run his hands through the sides and having them catch at tangles. The angles of Joel's face are shadowed and gentled in the bad lighting of the red room, and it makes his dark eyes soft and slightly bewildered and a little cross-eyed at the hook of his nose. 

God help him, thinks Jon. God help him, Joel Rubin's lips look very inviting. 

Burnie will come back in twenty minutes, give or take, with the rest of the Funhaus team. 

"Jon?" 

Why is everything about this man, right here, right now, so  _soft_? Jon stares at the manager of Funhaus and finds a swift solution. 

"If you have a problem with hips, I can play Shakira for the next twenty minutes as an appeal."

It peacefully breaks whatever is going on between them, and Joel slowly leans back, giggling as he goes. The sweet curve of his lips as it pulls into a smile - Jon wrangles his mind into submission.

"Got you there," says Joel. "The team's a  _big_ fan of Shakira."

-

It escalates. As Blaine opens his home to the Funhaus employees and as they invade the Know with goodwill and humor and plush animals, Jon sequesters himself in his office and sulks. Joel is still back in California, not a key comedy gold variable in the Funhaus team of James, Bruce, Lawrence, and Adam, but - 

He deals with it. He's had to deal with a lot of things lately, to be honest. But it balances out, as life will have it, with the hilarity of the Funhaus special episode and the company's relative success in acquiring seven new employees. 

"You know, I think the logo should have been pure orange," muses Bruce to Jon over the table. They have taken a break in the kitchen area next to the Achievement Hunters, and the atmosphere is blessedly full of constant screams and the crew's affectionately abusive comments at each other. 

Rooster Teeth should invest in more soundproofing, or the Achievement Hunters should remember to shut the damn door. Either or.

"Why pure orange?" Jon indulges Bruce because Bruce seems like one to be indulged or else  _consequences_. 

The bear of a man shrugs, an easy grin splitting his face wide. James Willem slides into place next to him, revealing his prize of a five-minute sandwich. His disconcerting blue eyes are wide with giddiness, matching the glee in his own smile.

"Bruce, don't flirt," admonishes James jokingly. Jokingly, Jon hopes, because if not then he is getting hot under his collar. "That's not very loyal of you as an employee."

"What? _Flirting_? Oh my god, _no_ ," Bruce says, only a little horrified. At James's prompting eyebrow waggle, he amends, "I was ensuring his bi-ness."

"My  _what_  - " spits Jon, choking on his healthy, normal, organic food. At the same time, Adam Kovic appears like an avenging god sent from the hell, his face stormy and apologetic towards Jon.

"Guys," warns Kovic in a dark voice. 

The two of them, though older, raise their hands in acquiescence and jump on entirely new subjects. "So we're still deciding on brands and logos and new names for our videos - what do you think of Open Haus?"

-

"Rubin has to come over here for a discussion on schedules," says Burnie absentmindedly. "Some of the others are coming too, and Blaine can accommodate only so much, so - "

"You do know that they're gossiping bastards, right?" snaps Jon, frazzled from today's events. "The Funhaus team, I mean. Not Joel. Not that Joel isn't part of the Funhaus team, but still - the Funhaus team are a bunch of gossiping bastards."

Burrnie gives him a look of mild disapproval, and Jon feels chastened only for a moment until his boss says, "Why don't I know this gossip?"

Jon wants to melt into the ground, disappear into the belly of the earth, maybe cart himself to Siberia or Antarctica. Somewhere where no one knows his name. "Never mind, just - is it just Joel staying at my house?"

"Yep!" says Burnie too brightly.

-

" _What the fuck is the gossip going on in your office_?" demands Burnie's tinny voice from the landline phone. Joel is already on the two-hour flight to Austin, comfortable in his lofty seat above. The rest of the team is being grilled and seared to perfection. 

"Someone," Adam doesn't mention names out of misplaced loyalty and the bonds of tenuous and antagonistic and occasionally bemusing friendships, "took a look at security footage and found Jon and Joel staring at each other very intently without making a move."

-

"If you integrate-integrate," says a voice loudly in Jon's ear, "I want you to do everything you can to make it as amicable as possible, you hear?"

Jon screeches and futilely bats a hand in the direction of the voice. "What?"

"Do not alienate Joel Rubin," orders Burnie, "because he's a valuable employee. Like you." With that last bit of farewell, Burnie drifts out of Jon's office. "Safety first!"

-

He picks Joel up at the airport in the evening, still a little harried over everything going on right now, but he makes the effort to make Austin as welcoming as it can be - nothing as great as Blaine's, but coffee is always a welcome decision after flights and customs. 

Burnie had clapped his shoulder as he left the office, cheeks burning red, and had assured him in a faux-reassuring voice that he and Joel could spend the rest of the evening without needing to come into the office.

Jon had swiftly taken his leave after, and now - now he was here, helping Joel with his duffel bag and lone suitcase and driving back to his house. His lonely bachelor house which was a great deal less cluttered than what most of Rooster Teeth thought it was. 

"So Burnie and Matt decided that they could hold the meeting tomorrow," opens Jon tentatively. This is not his business, not even close to his branch of business, but Joel deserves to know that this is not the route to the office. "Did they - "

"Well, no, but maybe it's one of those really long business meetings," deflects Joel, fingers folded against his stomach and his face at much ease and contentment that Jon has to force his eyes away from the inviting pale column of his neck and back to the street. "Can't say I'm complaining. Flights don't get easier, even when it's two hours."

Somehow,  _somehow_ , Jon manages to not cock up the entirely good atmosphere they've got going, and Joel takes everything in stride while sipping the coffee.

\--

Joel returns to L.A. after staying the night at Jon's home, unassaulted and looking blastedly cheerful compared to how haggard Jon feels and looks at the drop-off of the airport. "Stay safe," he bids. 

The curly-haired manager's mouth slips into a warm smirk. "Back to sunny L.A. I go," he responds. "Don't mourn the loss of my bubbly personality too much."

"I make no promises." 

God, did he actually say that? In a roughened voice? What is this, Kerry's personal fanfiction of RWBY?

The entirety of Joel's face tints pink, and he hastily says goodbye and thank you.

-

The heavy look Adam levels at Joel makes Joel feel inexplicably guilty. "What?" he whines, crossing his arms and slumping in the passenger seat. It makes sense that the entire team has turned out to drag their wayward manager back to their office, but who gave Adam the right to drive? At least Lawrence would be entirely focused on the road and the rules and probably breaking a few to maintain schedule.

It's a red-light. Red-lights are given times to be assaulted with questions of the third-kind. 

James starts. "Did you - " He's puppy-ish eager, blue eyes coaxingly wide and innocent, and in his effort to wring information and gossip, he's hunched his broad rounded shoulders. "You know - "

Bruce slaps at his face. "Don't say it so hintingly, or else he'll pretend to never understand," he scolds. He turns to look at Joel, whose face goes bright. "Did you?"

"Did I what?" says Joel delicately. 

"Have sex," Lawrence deadpans, head leaning against the window. Mournfully. He's probably watching all the cars zoom past Adam's goddamned slow driving and the stalled red-light. "They want to know if you've finally gotten laid."

"I get laid," he protests. "Just, well, not so recently."

"So you did get laid!" Triumphant in his apparent winning, he holds a hand out to Bruce, who only holds up a wise finger. 

Adam looks at Joel. "He didn't," he says finally. He seems relieved. "Nope. I don't see it." James and Bruce take his word as gospel, so James sneers and slaps a bill in Bruce's hand and falls back into his seat, muscular arms crossed.

Never before has Joel felt so humbled by Adam's observational skills. He wants to murder the bastard. "I have an after-sex look? How would you know if I had an after-sex look?" 

Adam shrugs. "You still look disgustingly lovesick. Or infatuated, take your pick."  He revs the engine as the light hits green. "If you'd gotten laid, nothing could stop you from your goddamn smirking."

-

"Joel looks like he properly likes you," notes Gavin. It's a slow day for the Achievement Hunters, which is the equivalent of everyone plugged in to edit videos except Gavin Free, who has finally figured out Jon's patterns of movements. On busy days, he locks himself in here with force of will, to pick up catchphrases or flubbed words. On slow days, Jon tries to sleep and relax on the white sofa.

"Shh."

"No, really," presses Gavin. His attention is completely focused on Jon now, editing briefly forgotten, and Jon's waiting and anticipating the moment where Geoff will step into the office, take one look at Gavin's expectant and oblivious face, and snap a 'get back to work, idiot'. 

Unfortunately, Geoff is wrapped up in Red vs. Blue talks with Burnie and Matt, thus - 

"Jo-o-n," whines the Brit. "C'mon, you're the top of the grapevine, you and him."

Jon rolls over on his side to contemplate the simple existence of the white couch's pleather-like nature. "There's nothing," he grumbles. "Whatever gossip they're feeding you,  _they're lying_."

Gavin scoffs, like he can't believe Jon would think that Gavin Free falls so easily to verbal lies. "Dropped a couple hints at their new office, yeah? Joel went red."

"I'm about to see red," threatens Jon to the poster child. "And when I see red, I'm going to start strangling you."

Mercy swoops in the voice of Ryan Haywood. "Gavin," says the residential psychopath absently, "I hear you think you can throw knives." He gives the interested Brit a brief look of disdain. "By holding it by the blade."

"'S theory, isn't it." Defensive and now occupied with the subtle challenge, Gavin turns away from Jon and leaves him to sleep.

-

There isn’t even a _reason_ , really, for them to even be a pair.

It’s ridiculous even, how his own mind will linger on the silly sentimental things about Joel Rubin. He doesn’t watch the Funhaus videos often – he really should, since they’re about to become one of those sleeper hits and inspirations he’ll take for the store – but the ones he does watch, he takes note.

Again, habit of his. All day, Jon’s plugged into his computer, listening to people riff on each other, make hilarious jokes (he ensures that most of what he designs aren’t copyrighted because _ugh_ lawsuits), and laugh at in-jokes made a company past.

Most of the day, he’s listening to Open Haus.

“Jon,” says Burnie impatiently, knocking his fist on the doorframe much like a woodpecker tends to an offensive tree. “Dude, seriously, are you listening?”

Jon recalls that he does work under this man and is obligated to answer with something plausible if he wants to keep a job. “Uh,” he says, tugging his headphones down. “I’ll have it done by tomorrow?”

The man squints at him, suspicious. “What?”

“In the next hour?” Jon tries.

“It was a yes or no question.” Burnie enunciates each word, and Jon flinches at the sound of his death knell. A frown appears on Burnie’s face, and then an awkward cough from his lungs. “Jon,” he says with the gravitas of a man walking into a minefield with nothing left to live for, “far be it for _me_ to nag you about getting some, but – “ A weak hand gesture communicates the rest for Jon.

Jon wants to sink into the ground, maybe add a tombstone over his grave or something _what the hell_. “I didn’t.”

“I mean, if you had, I would’ve been less worried about your state of mind,” Burnie explains, taking the few wary steps to Jon’s side.

Jon clicks the screensaver button before Burnie can see the Open Haus video. “Well,” here, Jon grins bright, “it hasn’t happened. It won’t happen.”

“Yet,” coughs Burnie.

-

On yet another business trip, Joel makes it over to Austin and stays once again at Jon’s place. Supposedly (and to Blaine’s chagrin), Jon’s house is cozier compared to Blaine’s bachelor pad. The drive to his place is, once more, a quiet comfortable atmosphere. Jon doesn’t feel compelled to keep a conversation up, and Joel simply goes to sleep listening to old blues from Jon’s iPod.

-

They get mildly drunk, which is the first mistake of the evening, really. Entirely Jon's fault. He's broken out the whiskey for less, he thinks, but for now, he wants to see Joel without his veneer of quick wit and easy smiles. With his dark eyes soft and inviting, a crook of a grin pulling at the corner of his lips. A light flush. 

Jesus, the whiskey's getting to him.

Ended up on the couch too, which is a tad smaller than it used to be five minutes ago. Hm. Through a haze of whiskey and Joel's cologne, Jon resolves to buy bigger things. Bigger is better. That was the adage. Right?

"More for less," laughs Joel, all raven-black tousled curls artfully held back with a force of will and gel, pink cheeks just begging to be stared at - Jon makes a questioning noise and no-scopes Joel. Five-two, in his favor. He wonders if Joel is seriously this bad at first-person shooters.

"What more for less," mutters Jon, darkly stalking the virtual hallways for his prey. 

"More stuff for less room!" Joel crows, and he shanks Jon's mascot in the back, and then he does a victory cheer. "And the crowd - goes - wild!" With accompanying jazz-hands, Jon bemusedly watches Joel congratulate himself.

Here is the second mistake - as Joel starts to actually commit into jogging a small victory lap around his coffee table, Jon makes a noise and trips him. Somehow, Joel's sense of balance gravitates towards  _Jon_ , and now there's a warm and heavy weight in his lap.

Jon tries to think of grandmothers and prunes and is forced to come to a conclusion that Joel should really change his cologne to something less attention-grabbing. "Are you going to get off?" he asks mildly.

Joel barely contemplates anything before scooting and twisting so he is straddling Jon's lap, grinding down and pulling a dazed Jon closer to his face. "Do you want me to," returns Joel. Dark eyes, half-lidded, seductive in the wry glee and restrained lust.

"I don't," admits Jon. "You're real attractive, and God help me, I  _want_." He trails his lips on the soft parts of Joel's neck, noses the curvature of his jaw, and barely grazes those lips. Said lips move open a fraction, and through the pounding of his blood, Jon hears Joel's breathing escalate and stutter, the barest gasps and pants. “No regrets?” he asks, quiet.

A scoff answers him. “Regrets, what _regret_ is that you’ve wined and dined me, and I am getting just about _zero_ compensation.”

Indignant, Jon pulls back. “No compensation?” he asks incredulously. “I’ve wined and dined you with authentic Texan food, what _no compensation_?”

“Listen, Jon,” Joel placates, “I imagine you think one-night stands can be completed like any old videogame mission, like objectives one, two, and three must be reached for a quest reward, but _I_ am a high-maintenance guy – _mmpk_.”

It’s to shut him up, Jon will swear. There’s a joke somewhere in Joel’s diatribe, but he’s a little more preoccupied with kissing the wits out of this man.

-

So it’s not a one-night stand.

It’s not one of those sappy long-distance relationships either, and, that’s – that’s a good thing.

They keep up with sporadic email updates, like, ‘I seriously need new material for a shirt’ and ‘Hey, so guess what we talked about today on the Know’. Jon will occasionally binge-watch the entire Open Haus series, and once or twice will even venture into Machinima’s channel and watch the old Questions and Answers show.

Their relationship isn’t so much _romance_ as it is _bromance_. Maybe not bromance. Definitely Californian bros.

The thing is, Jon walks into the Achievement Hunter office two days after he and Joel said goodbye at the airport terminal. It’s peaceful, quiet, and Jon’s looking for a brief respite before he gets back to work, so hurrah.

Quiet lasts a total of five minutes before Gavin scoots his chair from his desk to the couch. “Risinger!” crows the poster child. “So did you do it yet?” He gives Jon a hinting grin. “Or, ah, did you do him? Did he do you?”

Jon gives Gavin a scathing glare. “No,” he lies succinctly. “There was no doing anyone.”

Gavin makes the kind of derisive noise. “Pft. You’re losing me ten bucks, Risinger,” he accuses.

Geoff finally takes notice. “Oh, dude, you haven’t done the Funhaus guy, right?” he questions. “I got fifteen riding on you for next year.” The boss of six (generally psychotic, raging) man-children and _others_ (who are actually nice and calm if a little over-enthusiastic) contemplates something before adding, “And a handjob, Risinger. _It’s gotta start with a handjob_ or no dice.”

“Geoff,” cautions Michael, turning away from his Rage Quit editing. “You can’t tell a man how to fuck. A man fucks however he fucks.” He points a finger at Jon’s increasingly disgruntled face. “I’m defending you, you shithead. I didn’t even bet crap on the pool.”

Summoning the last vestiges of his patience from his tormented soul, Jon grinds out, “Who’s in the betting pool?”

The list of names goes on for about a minute, and Ryan pitches in a few forgotten names with the kind of guileless innocence Jon could stab him for.

-

Adam confirms the news day one of Joel’s triumphant return. “Dry streak’s broken,” says Kovic drily, lapsing into a slumped position against the window of the car. “Have at it, guys.”

To no one’s surprise, Lawrence and Matt rake in the most money. And because Matt volunteered not to get stuck in LAX traffic and stayed back at the office, by the end of the trip back, Lawrence has gotten himself a paper bag full of cash.

“Ridiculous,” proclaims James sullenly. “He’s got voodoo on his side.” Lawrence throws a dollar bill at his head, and then at Bruce’s sad face for good measure.

“I hate you all,” Joel realizes.

-

Jon catches himself wondering whether Joel watches On the Spot or not and abruptly shuts down the train of thought. He pulls out his phone, though he only rolls it over and over in his hands. _To text or not to text_.

 **Jon** : Anyone come up with original catchphrases yet  
**Joel:** still waiting on those sex swing shirts  
**Joel:** seriously just the logo would be awesome  
**Jon:** Take a minute to imagine WHO will be wearing those shirts  
**Jon:** HIGHSCHOOLERS  
**Joel:** special limited edition for us funhaus boys then?  
**Jon:** Don’t take my silence for concession

With the appropriate amount of trepidation, Jon opens Photoshop and types in capital letters: SEX SWING. On another window, he Googles band logos.

-

The move to the new office (which is blessedly open with windows and glass walls and weirdly a wall of black-and-white figures with solemn faces) is precluded, by Joel’s state of mind, one more trip back to Austin. This time, he _is_ parked at Blaine’s apartment.

“So,” says Blaine bracingly. “Uh.”

“Was this a part of the job requirement?” asks Joel. “Hosting outside employees from a different state?”

The brawny blond (where James has the Captain America Dorito proportionate body, Blaine is more of the wall of muscle) scratches the back of his neck and laughs. “Nah, I just have the emptiest place before Jon. Also, Jon usually brainstorms late at his house.”

This, Joel knows. It’s the kind of phenomenon that horrifies the lazier parts of his brain, how Jon will snatch a pen and piece of paper and start drafting store designs.

They’re still at the threshold of Blaine’s bachelor pad.

“Do you mind,” says Joel suddenly, “or rather, would Burnie or Matt mind if I, y’know, stayed at - ?” He leaves the question hanging on purpose, and Blaine catches on fast.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, they shouldn’t mind so long as you’re still mentally – um. There. And physically there.”

Thirty minutes later, Joel is dropped off at Jon’s place.

He raps his knuckles against the door and waits. When the door opens to Jon’s haggard face – whoa, who let him get away with that stubble – Joel still cannot stop himself from grinning. “Hey, stranger,” he drawls. “So turns out Blaine’s bachelor life is exactly as Adam described it, and I found myself missing your domestically inviting clutter of things, you packrat.”

Jon tugs him and his luggage in. “Well,” says Jon exaggeratedly. “I just can’t let go of certain things. As my fellow Cali friend, you should relate.”

The luggage is lined up against the wall, and once Jon turns to fuss over the resulting scuff marks the suitcase leaves on his floor, Joel seizes him by the belt-loops and presses Jon against the wall, adding a kiss as an afterthought. “So turns out I don’t want a one-night stand,” Joel declares.

Graying blue eyes squint back at him. “You want a _two_ -night stand? I’m good with that – “ Jon inhales a sharp breath as warm hands start exploring the hem of his jeans.

“Well,” says Joel. “I’d actually prefer a standing invitation-night stand. As in, hey I’m going to Austin, can I – pun not intended – come over for the stay?”

He can tell Jon’s trying to make sense of the situation. “So,” Jon’s voice is slowing, and that means his mind is parsing out the key words in Joel’s announcement. “Opportunistic fuckbuddies.”

Joel sighs. “Killing the buzz here, Jon.”

“ _Special_ friends with benefits?”

He gives up and opts to just blow Jon’s mind with really great sex. Can’t take a subtle hint, thinks Joel fondly.

-

 It’s kind of surprising for Jon to experience being asked what it was like having a Jewish boyfriend.

His issue isn’t with Joel’s religion, to be clear. It’s more of the assumption that they are in a relationship.

“Trying to deny a relationship can _not_ be healthy,” observes Gavin, spinning his unopened beer on the floor. They’re filming a HUNT between him and Michael, and someone had the bright idea to play Spin the Bottle: Death Style (wherein two colors of cups are arranged in a red-blue-red patterned circle, and where the bottle’s top ends up, the cup is blown out of the ring).

It’s pre-HUNT filming, so at least whatever Gavin’s saying isn’t on camera.

“It’s absolutely none of your business,” snaps Jon.

“Well, if you stopped holding back on the details, maybe I’d get over it!”

“If I stopped holding back on the details, I’d be in employee dump!”

He’s not exactly wrong, but Jon’s not exactly right in guessing the Rooster Teeth employee fraternization policy either.

Jon doesn’t remember when he started wishing his life wasn’t so… soap opera-ish.

-

“New ground rule, boys!” announces Joel when he waltzes into the office the morning after he comes back from Austin. “We don’t talk about relationships! On camera!”

Neither Lawrence nor Peake deigns to give him a passing glance – which he expected – but James does. Twisting round in his seat, he squints at Joel. “Off camera?” he tries. “I mean, we’re _off_ camera right now – ”

Adam calls out drily, “We’re livestreaming, get back over here.” A supportive shrug is offered to Joel after a minute. “I agree, let’s not speculate about our totally real relationships. On camera. Off camera is fair play.”

Joel’s phone vibrates in his pocket once he sits at his desk.

 **Jon** : tfw the players of your show start using gags to get laughs  
**Jon:** absolute despair

He taps out an encouraging response.

 **Joel:** there’s always next week, buddy

-

Jon takes exactly one trip to the new Funhaus office, and Burnie swears to anyone listening that it’s the last trip to the California office he’s letting Jon take.

More open than the last office, Jon assesses, and much more easy to maneuver through. The desks all face one wall with ample walking space, computer monitors everywhere with editing programs open, and – everyone’s editing. Except Joel and Bruce.

“Did I come at a bad time,” says Jon, dry.

“We’re doing Demo Disk in like, ten minutes,” Bruce offers.

“And then a Drunk something after that,” adds Joel. “I think someone wanted a Playstation All-Stars tournament.”

In precisely two hours, Jon is smashed. Joel, having arranged for Peake to be the sober driver in the morning, is somewhat tipsy.

Jon says a lot of weird things on camera when he’s drunk. Mostly flubbed words and strange twists of phrases that only encourage the Funhaus team to go overtime with the tournament because _hello blackmail_.

Once they have all piled into the van Peake rented for the day (he usually drives something more compact and easier so he can maneuver through traffic, but well), Jon drunk-dials Burnie.

“ _Jon, how’s it over in California_?”

“Burnie!” cheers Jon. Six other men join him in the greeting. They all sound incredibly like assholes prank-calling a pizza parlor. “I’m drunk!”

“ _… Okay, so that answered my question. You know where you’re staying_?”

Like a cat, Joel stretches out his limbs all over the place – Adam shoves at a leg, James bats away an arm – and smiles up at Jon.

Jon forgets to reply to Burnie, fixating on that particular quirk of lips and searing it into his brain.

“ _Uh, Jon. You know where you’re staying_?” Burnie repeats.

“With a great guy,” sighs Jon, and everything explodes in laughter.

-

In the morning at Joel’s apartment, Jon cradles a cup of coffee in his hands and nurses his head with caffeinated beans. Breakfast, evidently, has been postponed for his head’s sakes.

“Remember last evening?” asks Joel, sitting across from him, arms folded over his chest.

“… I think I broke a vase,” answers Jon guiltily.

Dark eyes blink. “Oh, right, you did. Well, forget that, I bought it cheap at the dollar store. What else do you remember?”

_Warm skin – a lot of harsh breathing – god I really –_

“Long-distance can be overcome by the power of romance?” Jon tests. It’s an awkward rolling of words, not even a proposal to be boyfriends, but it sounds right to say. Across from him, a steady exhale is blown out, a hand reaches across the table palm open, and dark eyes hold his steady.

“We should probably assume so,” agrees Joel, “else we’ll spend our salaries on buckets of Ben and Jerry’s. I mean, unless you already buy a pint a day – ”

Jon takes the hand.

**Author's Note:**

> First off, the sequel to 'have you heard of a friend line (it got crossed two minutes ago)'. You know that moment when your computer abruptly blacks out, shuts down, needs a hard restart? Yep. Not even going to elaborate.
> 
> Secondly, I found this in the folder 'to discard'. Probably because of the first draft problems, which included less fluff and more... ahem. So I cleaned it up and turned it into this fluff-fest. 
> 
> Lastly, this was inspired way back when Funhaus first opened on Youtube, their first Dude Soup recording. Sometime in the beginning of the video, Jon gets introduced via 'and that's Jon over behind the camera' and Joel just kind of stares in that direction for several minutes. Cue the overactive imagination.
> 
> Enjoy, leave comments, kudos and/or criticism! I'm in too many classes right now, so uploads will be sporadic as hell.


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